


shoutout to the dreams you'll chase (shoutout to the hearts you'll break).

by robinbuckli



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: F/F, am i projecting too hard, fluff and angst as always, if this depresses u well ME TOO, like mostly angst ngl it is not a happy fic so i dont suggest reading it if ur in a good mood, soccer au AGAIN but this time it's profesh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-24
Updated: 2019-08-24
Packaged: 2020-09-25 07:30:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20373010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/robinbuckli/pseuds/robinbuckli
Summary: nancy falls in love with robin. robin falls in love with soccer.





	shoutout to the dreams you'll chase (shoutout to the hearts you'll break).

**Author's Note:**

> before you read it, please note that this fic was written with the intent of exploring robin & nancy as flawed people. neither of them are really supposed to be right, and, to go deeper into that, their flaws may seem a little overdone. i did my best to avoid writing too ooc, but a lot of their traits (especially robin's, and especially in a modern setting) are really just up for interpretation, so that's what i did. hope u like!

Being invited to a training camp for the U-15 national women’s team ends up being one of the best and worst things that ever happened to her.

Nancy watches the door open and a girl enter. From the spring in her step as she walks through the wide open door to the way she sits down and instantly spins around to loudly greet who Nancy can only assume is a friend, the confidence is apparent.

The girl catches her staring, and Nancy’s gaze drops to her lap, where her sweaty, nervous fingers tangle up in each other. At just thirteen years old, she knows she’s the youngest one there, not to mention the smallest. Her arms and legs are like twigs compared to the fourteen year olds that have had at least a year of serious training with the national team, and from the moment she’d gotten the call-up, she’d worried she wouldn’t be good enough.

Now that she’s actually here, the worry doesn’t go away. If anything, it grows.

There’s a sense of dread in her throat when she swallows that, while she accepts has permanently settled in for the duration of the camp, makes her extra grateful when the coach walks in. She’s barely able to pay attention to the welcome speech, and finds herself falling into the familiar trap of cyclical worrying. While everyone else is paying attention to some probably very important information, Nancy’s listing off every single bad thing that could happen to her.

She could get lost, in a foreign country, no less, then her phone could die, and then she could end up homeless on the streets of Germany for the rest of her life with no way to get home.

She could, in an effort to break some ankles on the field, end up breaking her _own_ ankle.

She could attempt a poorly timed slide tackle and accidentally clip her opponent in the head and kill her and go to jail for the rest of her life.

She could get subbed in and, as soon as the first pass is sent to her, freeze, lose possession, and instantly get subbed off.

She could score an own goal.

She could score _two_ own goals.

But most importantly, she could be lonely.

She could go through the whole camp without making one friend. She could sit by herself at every meal and try to force food past the lump in her throat as she watches the different groups of girls. She could have a roommate that would rather go off to her own friends than get to know the little kid, the rookie.

She could be lonely.

There’s a rising blanket noise of chatter, chair scraping, and belonging gathering, and Nancy realizes that everyone is getting up. Glancing up at the projector set up in the empty conference room of the hotel, she briefly registers a closing slide on the presentation and panics as she realizes she missed room assignments. Before she can pluck up the courage to go ask someone, and, in doing so, admit she wasn’t paying attention whatsoever, a girl taps her on the shoulder.

_ The _ girl, to be exact.

Her breath catches in her throat as they make eye contact, and she blames it on being startled. The girl’s lips are smiling, but then they’re moving, and Nancy isn’t hearing a word of it.

“Sorry, what?” she asks dumbly.

“It’s okay,” the girl says, with a laugh that she’s only ever heard in movies, and a voice that has something just a little bit unique about it. “I said, ‘you’re Nancy Wheeler, right?’”

“Uh, yeah,” she says. “How’d you know?”

The girl shrugs. “You’re the only one I don’t recognize.” There’s a pause. “You’re my roommate. I’m Robin. Robin Buckley.”

“Hi,” she says. “I’m Nan -- uh, hi.”

They drift towards the conference door, and Nancy wonders if this roommate situation is a blessing or a curse, but when they’ve left the room and are safely inside the empty elevator, she lets out a sigh and decides it doesn’t matter; she’s just glad to be alone.

“Excited? Nervous?”

Well, not _ alone _ alone.

She whips her head to the side and tries to process that Robin is talking. To _ her _. “I guess, yeah.”

“I was really nervous my first camp, too,” she says.

“I doubt it,” Nancy mumbles a bit sourly. She reddens when she realizes how loudly she’d said it, but Robin just chuckles.

“It’s true. I’m not anymore, but I was only thirteen when I was first called up,” she explains. “I’m fourteen, almost fifteen, and one of the oldest ones here,” she continues as they make their way through the hallway and to their room. “The only one older is Alex, and, well, we’re such good friends it doesn’t phase me anymore.”

“Did you play your first camp?”

“Yep,” she says. There’s a slight tremor in her hand as she slides the keycard in, and she shivers as she pushes the door open. “I try not to think about it.”

“That bad?” Nancy says. She tries to mask the hopefulness in her voice, but she’s not sure she succeeds.

“Worse,” Robin confirms, flopping down onto the bed closest. “I got subbed in during the second half, was running up and down the field way out of position, and basically let someone dribble past me without even trying to stop them.”

“But you’re still here,” Nancy says. She moves to unpack her clothes, and tries to ignore the crawling sensation on her skin as Robin just sits and watches her.

“Because it happens to everyone at some point,” said girl shrugs. “Whether it’s the development academy at twelve or an Olympic final. Everyone chokes, and if you’re able to get past it, that’s what separates athletes from people who are athletic.”

“Oh.” Her hand rests on the drawer handle.

Robin, seeing her pause, sits up and says, “Try not to worry. Most people don’t even play their first camp.”

But Nancy does.

She spends the next three weeks putting her all into everything she does. Every pass is purposeful, every play is full of thought, and she tries so hard during the beep test that she thinks she might throw up. Even though Robin has her own friends, she's somehow always there to pick up the slack if Nancy can't find a partner, or gives her an encouraging pat on the back every now and then if they don't end up paired for passing drills.

Robin tugs her over to her friend group for their warm up laps, and Nancy tries her best to keep up with people who are somehow a million miles taller, despite only being a year older. She always double checks that Nancy's got water, she offers her pre-wrap for her guards or her hair, and always packs extra chapstick for both of them. On their off days, Robin does her best to invite her places, but Nancy politely declines, knowing that Robin must really want to just hang out with her real friends, and wanting a day to just rest and read. On their two-a-days, they go to recovery together, and Robin always makes sure that her ice bath is cold enough.

The first couple nights, Nancy is so sore she wants to cry, but her body gets stronger until a night's rest and a good meal is enough to feel back to normal the next day. She really does try to get eight hours of sleep every night, but she and Robin inevitably start talking, and only stop until one of them accidentally drifts off while listening to the other. She can't help but wonder if Robin just does this with every rookie she gets roomed with.

The three weeks are gone before she knows it, and then it's game day. For forty-five minutes, she warms the bench in a US Soccer jersey with the number twelve on the back. The crowd is no more than two hundred, and the bleachers are almost nonexistent, but it’s still the most nerve-wracking moment of her life. She can feel herself start to get pulled back into the endless cycle of worry, so instead, she focuses on her roommate.

Robin is all light brown hair and blue pre-wrap, and the endless pump of her legs as she races to connect long balls and quick, short passes, is mesmerizing. With Ale sitting on the bench next to Nancy due to just coming back from a pulled hamstring, Robin wears the captain’s armband.

Nancy almost doesn’t believe it when the coach reads the line-up for the second half and she’s in it, but Robin throws her a thumbs up and a smile. They’d stayed up talking almost every night, and, for some reason, Robin just puts an ease to her worries.

With the commanding voices of Robin and Alyssa, who isn’t much older than Nancy, but has the vantage point of the goal, she lets herself be directed by instinct and instruction. She falls into place easily, sticks her hand into the defensive huddle as confidently as she can, and hops up and down to jump start her legs. When the whistle blows, Robin pulls the ball back to a midfielder in an 8 jersey who sends it back again, towards Nancy. Despite a millisecond of panic, she receives it cleanly.

Nancy doesn’t consider herself religious, much to the dismay of her grandma, but she prays that she doesn’t trip or fall or miscalculate what’s happening on the field, and begins dribbling up. Whether it’s God, gods, luck, fate, or a fairy godmother, the game turns in her favor. She briefly registers the rest of the team pushing with her, and feels a flicker of confidence sprout when she realizes Germany is falling into a defensive role.

With the outside of her foot, she prays again for a solid pass and as soon as it hits the desired player, she calls for it back. The German keeper is backing up rapidly as Nancy runs a defender up the sideline, and, before she runs out of space, sends what she hopes is a perfectly timed cross over the PK mark.

Her face falls as her feet slow to a walk when she realizes she doesn’t spot anyone in a USA jersey even remotely close to the box, probably not expecting her to get that far, but then, by some miracle, Robin is there, a blurry ball of blue pre-wrap, hurtling towards the ball and connecting with it in a diving header.

It falls into the back of the net just off the fingertips of the keeper, and Nancy hasn’t even registered that she just got her first assist until Robin’s sprinting towards her. Forgetting how small Nancy is, the forward jumps up. Though Nancy really does try to catch her, she ends up falling straight back onto the grass. The rest of the team is piling onto her, and she can barely breathe or see or hear, but with her eyes on the sky and her back in the dirt, she feels at home.

Two days later, Nancy boards a plane back to the US with her heart on her sleeve, about twenty new numbers in her contacts, and a promise from Robin they’ll stay in touch.

Still, life is life. Despite the small age gap, the grade gap is a different story. Robin is in high school, and Nancy is in eighth grade. Besides soccer, there’s not a lot to talk about. Nancy wonders if she were Robin’s age if they’d have more in common, but one scroll through the Californian’s Instagram, and she instantly doubts it. Besides Robin’s loyal likes on her own posts and occasional comments, they stop speaking. Calls end after the first week because Robin has AP classes she has to study for, and texting slows until it stops altogether. 

//

Two months later, Robin calls her almost too excited to speak, but Nancy understands “I” and “got called up” and “U-16.” The rest is just background noise. The Indiana sunset is beautiful as it falls over her bedroom, and usually just looking at it calms whatever worry she’s having, but tonight, she just feels alone.

//

Except she’s not.

Kelley is the new captain now that both Robin and Alex are off to U-16 and U-17, respectively, and she makes it her first order of business to implement mandatory bonding time with the team (but only after checking with the coach, of course).

They have movie nights with a single bag of Cheetos they pass around in a crinkly mess that stain multiple white hotel sheets, stupid truth or dare sessions that fade away within ten minutes after someone changes the subject to get out of a dare they know will get them in trouble, sleepovers on nights before days off, and enough laughter to make Nancy forget about Robin for a little while.

Still, when she laces up for games and sits on the bus next to the only other rookie more nervous than her, she misses the soft smiles Robin used to give her whenever she needed them that calmed her more than any stupid breathing exercise her mom suggested. She misses the nights they’d stayed up talking about their hometowns, Nancy telling Robin all about the farmers market fairs in Indiana that came from real farms, and Robin complaining about how there was nothing to do in Carpinteria. She misses the mealtimes where she’d nervously stand around until Robin would roll her eyes and beckon her over to sit with her group. She misses the pre-game and pre-practice ritual that could have been, but never was, where Robin would offer her some pre-wrap, and she’d decline, saying blue wasn’t her color.

She misses, but she moves on.

//

A week before her fifteenth birthday, she’s invited up to the U-16 team just as Robin gets moved on to the U-17.

//

Nancy captains the U-18 as Robin starts as a rookie for the U-20 with Alex. This time, she doesn’t call.

//

@nawheeler: Peace out, junior year. 

@robinbuckley12: bye, high school. i won’t miss you!! #berkeleybound

//

January of her sophomore year, at barely sixteen, Nancy gets her first call-up to the U-20 team. After missing the most recent two camps with the U-18 due to an ankle sprain the coach didn’t want to risk being a problem in the future, the call-up is unexpected and not at all in the plan Nancy had created for herself.

Still, like the email said, they’re in desperate need of defenders after two aged out and another quit soccer after a bad ACL tear, plus a clear lack of potential needed to make it to the senior team. Nancy races around the house yelling to her parents, bursting into Mike's room to interrupt him and Will a minimum of three times, and only pauses to breathe when she realizes this is going to be the first time she'll see Robin in person after three years.

“Oh. Shit.”

At eighteen, Robin isn’t the veteran captain Nancy knew her as. She’s still her confident self, of course, because she’s just that kind of person, but being surrounded by players way more senior to her takes her off the pedestal Nancy unconsciously always pictured her on. During the first meeting, she’s sitting in the corner with Alex and Christen, chatting away and wearing a UC Berkeley soccer sweatshirt. Nancy doesn’t know if she should go up to her or not, but before she can decide, Robin chooses for her.

Standing up and all but brushing Christen aside, she heads straight for Nancy. “I thought I saw your name on the roster.”

“I saw yours, too,” is all she can say.

Robin laughs and Nancy tries not to squirm as she looks her up and down. “You’ve grown up a lot.” Then a blush. Nancy realizes this is the first time she’s ever seen her so nervous before, and the Californian begins rambling about how she didn’t mean it in a weird way and after three years _ that _ is the first thing she says? until Nancy touches her arm lightly.

“It’s not weird. I know,” she says. “I was such a kid when we met.” _I still am_, she can’t help but think.

“Skinny little thing,” Robin says with a laugh, though her cheeks are still flushed.

Somehow, they’re roommates again, and Nancy is starting to believe she really does have a fairy godmother, or just luck with general coincidence. Still, the room just feels like any room. Three years ago, Robin just being there would have made the hotel like home. It doesn’t anymore, it would be stupid to expect it to, and Nancy tries not to think about that as she unpacks.

The first training day is quiet. She sits by herself on the bus and tries to tune out Alex's jokes and Robin’s laughter that will inevitably follow, but gives up before they’ve even left the hotel parking lot and just stews in her own jealousy. She feels a tiny shred of victory when Robin offers to be her passing partner, but when Alex just shrugs and trots off looking for Tobin, she feels stupid for even caring in the first place.

Their passing is fine, in sync even, but the chemistry they had that one game back when Nancy was thirteen just isn’t there anymore. Too many years of not seeing each other and playing with so many other coaches and players has taken its toll on whatever kind of duo they naturally could have been.

Nancy’s the youngest one on the team, even though there are a couple other new kids called up with her. After a few days of following Robin around like a lost puppy, she tires of fighting for attention and pretending jokes are funny when everyone knows she doesn’t get them, and falls into line with the other rookies instead. They start eating together instead of scattered around the room trying to find a place in the already established friendships. During warm-ups, they split into pairs and pass together in squares and dribbling lines. On their day off, Nancy invites them all out to lunch, and she discovers how nice it is to have friends she doesn’t have to chase. Friends she can just be friends with without the constant worry of when they're going to talk next, or who she’ll have to fight for attention.

She catches Robin staring at her on the bus when she drops into the seat next to Julie, but Nancy can’t, for the life of her, figure out why, because it’s not like they ever sat together before.

Robin wakes Nancy up one day after she sleeps through her alarm, and there’s a soft expression on her face as she gently shakes Nancy into consciousness. Still, as soon as Nancy rubs her eyes and mumbles, “Robin?” the expression fades and she takes a step back, like she’s been electrocuted.

Most of their interactions are a brief "good morning" or “can I shower now?” or “I’m going to turn off the light” or “is the AC temperature okay?” rather than the late nights spent chatting away about their separate lives, and early mornings that left them exhausted, but happy.

On the first two-a-day, Nancy invites the other rookies to forgo the ice bath she knows most of the team will choose and do a swimming recovery session with her instead. Nancy’s hair is wet and her skin smells like chlorine when she slips the keycard into the door handle and pushes her way inside. Alex is sitting on her bed, and just gives a wave, with no obvious intent of moving. Nancy rolls her eyes, but there’s a smile on her lips when she excuses herself to shower.

When she’s done, Sydney is gone and Robin is lying flat on her back with her eyes wide open. She doesn’t move as Nancy hunts around less than quietly for clean US Soccer issued practice clothes. When Robin speaks, it’s so quiet that Nancy almost misses it, until she repeats, “You weren’t at the ice baths today.”

She pauses with her face stuck in the shirt she has half pulled over her head and takes her time in sticking her neck through the hole. A little surprised that Robin noticed and a little confused as to why it’s even worth mentioning she carefully says, “Yeah, I did a swimming session with the other rookies.”

Silence.

She goes to brush out her hair, but pauses when she spots Robin just looking at her with an unreadable expression on her face. Doing what she does best, she distracts herself and asks, “How’s college?”

It’s like the clouds part and angels start singing when Robin sits up and smiles. “Great,” is all she says.

“That’s good,” Nancy replies.

Robin nods, and when their eyes meet, Nancy feels at home again.

It shows, too. Robin is her passing partner more out of want than obligation, and when they scrimmage during practice, the coaches have started putting them together rather than against each other. Their chemistry returns with the inevitable rust spots, but Nancy's intuitive ability to read Robin's next move, and Robin's ability to count on Nancy to follow through sends them winning 6v6 games with flying colors.

The coach moves Nancy into an offensive midfield position where she starts against South Africa behind Robin up top, and instead of a thumbs up thrown from afar, Robin jogs back to her. “Ready to get me some goals?” she teases.

“I was born ready,” Nancy replies, already faster on her feet and quicker with her retorts against Robin’s endless banter than she was at thirteen.

“Really, though,” the Californian says quietly. “You’re going to do great.”

“Thanks,” Nancy says, surprised at how genuine she’s being. “You will, too, as always.” They’re silent, just staring at each other, and Nancy was always one to hate these kinds of moments, so she turns away and says, “I’ll get you a goal. Promise.”

She doesn’t end up keeping it, but only because instead, she gets Robin two.

The first is almost a record. Nancy checked. A few passes back after the whistle, Nancy receives a ball from Alanna through the meg of a South African player and begins a run up the field. A defender pressures her all the way up to the goal and she’s barely able to keep it in bounds before sending a cross in. Robin receives it easily, does two quick touches around three defenders, and sends it in blindly.

It takes just forty-seven seconds, and Nancy feels the high keep her confident all through the first half.

//

At the end of camp, she does one last sweep of the hotel, and discovers that she and Robin are the last two to call an Uber to the airport. Robin waves her off with a "text you later." Nancy hates how her heart leaps upon hearing that, especially when there’s two weeks of silence from Robin’s end, and Nancy doesn’t want to annoy her by reaching out. Still, she remembers that they play for the same national team now, and unless Robin gets a call-up to the senior team, they’ll see each other at the next camp. Before that can happen, Robin FaceTimes her out of the blue.

It’s eleven at night and Nancy’s in the middle of Econ homework.

“Hello?”

“Nancy,” Robin says.

“Hi.”

And then Robin is off, chattering away about how Cal played UCLA that night and how she scored a hat trick and how she _loves_ her teammates and how Nancy is just going to _love_ college and on and on and on until she takes a deep breath and slows. “Anyway. I just wanted to tell you. I mean... I don’t know. It’s probably late in Indiana, I shouldn’t have bothered you, I can let you go if you need--”

“Don’t hang up,” Nancy orders.

Robin snaps her mouth shut. Finally, a meek, “Okay,” slips out.

With a hand tangled in her hair and the other holding her phone out in what she hopes is a good angle, she just sighs. “It’s fine that you called. I’m glad you did. It’s just kind of unexpected.”

She almost wants to take back her words when she sees Robin slump in her chair and frown with her eyebrows furrowed, but then the Californian says, “I know. I’m sorry. I kept meaning to text, like I said, but then I realized I'd rather call, but then I had homework and practice and class and then I was just so tired.”

“It’s okay.”

“It’s not,” she said. Her face is still the epitome of worry, and Nancy wants to do anything she can to get her smiling again, which is a feeling she decides she’ll revisit later. “I said we’d stay in touch.”

“It isn’t big deal,” Nancy says, even though, for some reason, it is. “I get it. You’re busy. I am, too.”

“Well, yeah,” Robin says, “but we can still make time for each other, right?”

“Right.”

She tries not to get her hopes up, but it’s hard when Robin says, “Every Friday night, we’ll FaceTime. No matter how much we text or don’t text during the week. Every Friday?”

Robin’s looking at her with such a hopeful expression, and Nancy wonders why she even cares this much. Eventually she just says, “We barely even know each other.”

The worried expression is back. “No, I know that. But I want to. Know you, I mean.”

Nancy wants to ask why. She wants to ask why on Earth Robin “I’m pretty and a collegiate athlete at UC Berkeley” Buckley would want to get to know a dumb little high schooler. She wants to know why Robin can’t just settle for the mountains of friends she already has. Instead, she just smiles. “Okay. Every Friday.”

And it turns out, Nancy doesn’t really care about the actual answers to any of those questions.

She decides it doesn’t really matter as long as at seven in the morning, every Monday, dragging herself out of bed and onto the Subway to get to school is a little easier when she knows that halfway through her first class of the day, Robin will get up for a light morning jog and send her a “good luck at school” Snapchat. When a teacher loses her test and makes her retake it, she finds it can become a little more amusing when she starts rehearsing how she’s going to retell the tale that Friday on their weekly phone call. If she can’t face walking into BC Calc one more time that week, she knows that she can spend that hour doing homework in the library and texting Robin her opinion on different outfits the Californian is putting together.

Some weeks, Friday doesn’t work out. Robin will spontaneously call on Thursday to ask if Nancy’s free to chat because she has a game the next evening. Nancy will push aside the mile long mental to-do list, and gladly stay up till one in the morning talking to her. The next night, she’ll watch the game live on whatever crappy stream she can find, and live text Robin her reactions. Eventually, they’re able to phase out of planning times to talk and are able to just let it happen. Sometimes they don’t manage to text anything more than “good morning” or a dog picture once a week, and sometimes they Face Time every night.

So, no, Nancy doesn’t really care why Robin is doing this. She just cares that it’s happening at all.

//

The next month they meet up at another U-20 camp.

Robin rooms with a nineteen year old rookie who’s trying to figure out if she should be paying respect to Robin because she’s been playing for the team for a whole year, or demanding it just because she’s older, and Nancy flops onto the bed closest to the door, but is pushed off of it only moments later as Alex stalks out of the bathroom loudly announcing that she arrived first and already claimed that bed.

It’s a January camp, so the first few days are spent doing nothing but fitness testing. It isn’t fun no matter what, and it's too exhausting for chatting to be fun, so everyone pairs up more out of convenience than preference. Nancy finds she no longer gets that awful burning feeling in her chest when Robin groups with someone else. It’s strange being back at the same camp and finally being friends. It’s strange being able to comment on something without the pressure to make it a conversation. It’s strange getting looks thrown her way by Robin when their coach keeps droning in and on, and it’s even stranger to reciprocate them until both are barely keeping their laughter contained.

It’s strange, but it’s nice.

Nancy tires of saying no to Robin’s pre-wrap offers (she says she likes how it matches Nancy's eyes), and starts tying a little bit around her wrist instead of the intended headband use. She stops sitting by herself, and hesitantly slips into the window spot beside Robin, who has always sat by herself in a seat pair next to Sydney and Kristie.

It’s nice.

//

“Any colleges looking for you yet?” Robin asks.

“Mostly DII,” Nancy admits.

Robin’s picture freezes for split second, and when it reloads, she has a soft smile on her lips and a knowing look in her eyes. “You’ll get a DI commitment, I know it. Wouldn’t it be crazy if you went to Cal?”

“Yeah,” Nancy laughs hesitantly. She doesn’t know if Robin’s kidding, and doesn’t want to ask.

//

Two days later, she gets an email from Stanford University asking for her club schedule so they can come watch live. With sweaty hands and shaky fingers that mess up the number she’s trying to dial three times, even though she knows it by heart, she calls Robin.

“Stanford wants to see me play,” she says breathlessly.

A pause. Then, “Stanford? Really?”

It’s only then she remembers that Robin plays for UC Berkeley, their rival school. Nancy lets out a laugh, which calms her racing heartbeat just ever so slightly. “California here I come?”

“I’m really proud of you, Nancy,” Robin says, and Nancy tries not to think about how that sentence alone brings her way too much happiness than it should.

“I mean, they just want to watch. I don’t even know if they’ll want me,” she says with a little frown.

“Oh, they will.” Robin’s reply is immediate and dismissive. “How could they not?”

“You really think so?”

“I promise you so,” she says. Then a sigh. “It’s too bad, you would look great in Berkeley blue.”

“It’s a nice school,” Nancy agrees. She starts to continue, then hesitates and stops herself, but when Robin doesn’t say anything, Nancy knows she’s waiting for her to spit out whatever’s on her mind. So, she does. The words tumble faster than she can even process what she’s saying. “It’s just,” she bites out, “I’ve spent so long... I don't know, following you? Maybe that's not the right word. But like, I did everything after. High school, the various national teams, now college. And I want to do something that’s just for me, that hasn’t been influenced or done before by someone so close to me. And I can do that by going to a different college. Does...” she trails off. “Does that make sense?”

Nothing but the sound of breathing and static comes from the other end, and she curses herself silently for ruining the moment, but when Robin says, “Did it have to be Stanford, though?” and “I can’t wait to nutmeg you,” she knows everything is okay.

//

From: Robin :)

[ 8:13 PM ]

by the way, don’t let them brainwash you. cardinal is fucking red.

//

Nancy’s a week away from saying goodbye to her sophomore year of high school when Robin sends her a text saying, _ Need to talk. Now. _

She does.

“I got the call up,” Robin says breathlessly.

“Hello to you, too -- wait, _ the _ call up?” Nancy doesn’t even realize she isn’t walking anymore until a car honks at her, and she hurries through the cross-walk with an apologetic wave.

“Yes,” Robin says. Silence.

“Oh, my God.”

“I know.”

“Oh, my _ God _.”

“I _ know _.”

Two days later, the excitement is gone, and Robin has dissolved into the biggest pile of nerves Nancy has ever seen in her entire life. “What if nobody talks to me?” she frets. Nancy has her chin propped up on her fist with a spread of homework laid out in front of her, and she welcomes the distraction that is Robin Buckley pacing around her dorm room. “What if I suck?”

“If you’re going to worry, you might as well worry about something you’re actually bad at,” Nancy observes.

“Thank you,” Robin says with so much sarcasm weighing down her words that Nancy wouldn’t be surprised if they physically fell to the floor.

“I’m serious!” Nancy says. She rolls over and leans her phone against a pillow. “Alex has been called up to the senior camp twice, so _she’s_ going to talk to you, and you clearly don’t suck at soccer. It’s possible you could get hit by a car and lose all your memory, in which case it’s possible you’ll suck, but you’d also be hit by a car, which, in my opinion, would suck even more.”

“Hm,” Robin mumbles. Her face is still twisted up with worry, and Nancy realizes that her usual attempt (emphasis on _attempt_) at humor to cheer her friend up isn’t working.

She knows she’s never been good at it, but she tries for the serious stuff. “Look. I met you when I was thirteen. I was the youngest at the camp, I started soccer later than everyone else, and I had the exact same worries you’re having now. I almost didn’t go because I was so anxious about it. I almost told them I wasn’t interested.”

“I didn’t know that,” Robin says quietly. She’s stopped pacing and has her face rested right up against her phone’s camera, and though Nancy is probably the most uncomfortable she’s ever been in her entire life, she keeps talking.

“I had stomach aches all the time, and I couldn’t concentrate on anything the weeks leading up to the camp,” Nancy says. “My parents almost made the decision _for_ me because they could see how unhealthy it was. I was so close to not going, to giving up my shot at the senior team.”

“But you didn’t,” Robin observes.

“No,” Nancy agrees. “I didn’t. I psyched myself up just enough to pack a bag and get on a plane to fucking _ Germany _ of all places. I’d never flown by myself before; I’d never even been out of the country, much less Indiana. And when I got to camp, I sat by myself in that tiny conference room, and I begged the world to disappear as I watched everyone grouping together and chatting with their friends. My worst nightmares were literally coming true.”

“But...” Robin says hesitantly.

“But,” Nancy says. A dumb, sappy smile finds its way onto her face that she only notices when she looks into the screen. “But, an annoying, weird preppy, yet edgy, California girl, who had a strange obsession with blue pre-wrap, told me I was her roommate, and forced my awkward ass to talk to her, sit with her at meals, and be her passing partner during warm-ups. She could have ignored me, she could have spent all her time at her friends’ rooms, she could have just been the bare minimum of civil, but she wasn’t. She was the most talented, most popular, prettiest girl at camp, and she went out of her way to disrupt her friend groups just to make the rookie feel included.”

“You think I’m pretty?”

Nancy rolls her eyes and tries to fight off the flush she knows is rising in her cheeks. “I have eyes, Robin. Is that really all you got from that?”

“No, no,” Robin says, but her voice is laced with amusement and Nancy decides that even if she had to go through the five most excruciatingly embarrassing minutes of her life just to make Robin smile again, it was worth it.

“My _point_ is,” she continues, “Everybody at that camp is going to love you." She takes a deep breath and when she speaks again, she’s surprised to hear her voice shaking just ever so slightly. "They’re not just going to talk to you, they’re going to invite you to eat with them and volunteer to be your partner and make sure you don’t sit alone and answer any stupid questions you might have, even if it’s two in the morning, and they’ve just finished a two a day, because you do that for other people without asking anything in return, and it makes people want to do the same for you.”

“Nancy.” Nancy looks away, but can hear Robin starting, “I...” and then pausing.

There’s a long silence, and Nancy can sense that Robin might be about to say something sappy, and she knows she won’t be able to take much more of this heart-to-heart talk, so she just laughs it off and says, as nonchalantly as she can, “And you’re pretty.” 

Robin blinks, but then laughs as well, but it’s a chuckle at best, and it seems to be weighted with so much more. Their conversation dives back into Robin helping Nancy with AP Psychology, which is the reason they even FaceTimed in the first place, but Nancy can barely concentrate on anything Robin’s explaining because she just can’t help but wonder what would have happened if she hadn’t interrupted.

//

From: Robin :)

[ 10:49 PM ]

for the record, i think ur pretty too.

//

Winter of her junior year, Nancy commits to Stanford University.

She flies out with her dad on a rainy night and lands in SFO bright and early the next day. The sun is shining, and, walking around campus, she finally starts to feel a sense of belonging that, for the first time in her life, doesn’t rely on someone else.

She signs that afternoon and goes home wearing a Cardinal red sweatshirt.

//

Nancy graduates from high school on a warm summer day and packs her bags for California only two weeks later.

//

“How is it?”

“I’ve only been here for, like, one day,” Nancy laughs. She props her phone in between her chin and shoulder.

“Well,” Robin says, and Nancy can practically see her rolling her eyes, “how was your single day?”

“Hot,” Nancy says.

“Yep, I hope you didn’t waste too much box space on sweaters because you won’t be whipping those bad boys out until October,” Robin says.

Nancy glances at a box she’d filled solely with long sleeve shirts and jackets. “Great.”

“And your roommate?” Robin asks.

“I don’t know, she isn’t here yet,” Nancy says. She wrinkles her nose. “Her name is Eiffel.”

“Like, the tower?”

“Yes.” Nancy flops onto her back and mentally rolls through all the emails they’d exchanged. “She seems okay based on our online interactions, but anyone whose name is a landmark or a city is a terrible person.”

“That’s definitely not true,” Robin says.

//

It’s true.

A week later, Eiffel arrives in a noisy display of endless boxes and suitcases. She ends up not being a terrible person, but she is highly annoying and insists on calling Nancy by her full name.

“Tell me about yourself, Nancy Wheeler,” she says one night. She’s sprawled across her gaudy cheetah print comforter and has her elbow propping up her head.

“Uh, no thanks.” Nancy turns back to her phone and hopes she’ll leave her alone.

She doesn’t. “Come on,” she begs, “I’m bored.”

“Go to a party,” Nancy says with a shrug.

“Uh, there aren’t any?” she says, like it’s obvious. “Parties don’t start until people actually start arriving besides the athletes, Nancy Wheeler.”

“That’s unfortunate,” she mutters.

Eiffel arches one eyebrow. “Why?” she demands. “I didn’t take you for one to go to parties.”

“I’m _not_,” Nancy says, taking a deep breath, “but _you_ are, and I would like some peace and quiet.”

She hears Eiffel laugh, but it’s not a bitter or hostile chuckle, it’s just amused. “If you wanted me to leave, you could have just said so.” Before Nancy can even blink, Eiffel tosses her a smile, grabs her phone, and is out the door.

As it turns out, Eiffel is completely fine with leaving at pretty much any time because she can charm her way into any guy’s pants and, from there, into their wallet or dorm room. Nancy just has to say the word, and off she goes. It’s an arrangement that works out surprisingly well because the more time Nancy spends away from Eiffel, the more she likes her. She’s much cleaner than Nancy expected, despite her mountains of stuff and terrible interior design skills, and isn’t the worst person to have around if she wants to cop one of the endless discounts Eiffel gets if she flirts with the cashier enough.

Days turn into weeks, and then the semester is starting. Weeks turn to months, until, before Nancy knows it, it’s December. Stanford plays Duke in the NCAA semi-finals where they already know Cal is waiting for them. She sits on the bench with a pinny over her Cardinal red jersey and doesn’t see a minute in the scoreless first half. Or the scoreless second. Duke pushes and Stanford pulls and eventually they’re in overtime. Then a shootout. And then, despite not even stepping onto the field once, Nancy slots the ball just past Duke’s keeper. It’s a goal that wins the game and sends Stanford on to the next one.

A week later they play Cal. Stanford acquires a red card in the first half and has to play a man down.

UC Berkeley takes the championship.

//

“I’m sorry,” Robin says.

“Don’t be,” Nancy says. She’s got her back curled away from the center of the room, and tucks her phone up against the wall so she can see Robin. “I’m glad it was you if it couldn’t be me. Winning, I mean.”

“It could have gone either way,” Robin admits. “I just can’t believe she’d risk playing that dirty, though.”

"She" references the teammate that all of Stanford soccer has designated “she who shall not be named” because everyone is so upset, and doesn’t want to take it out on her. Nancy just shrugs. “Yeah.”

And then it’s quiet.

And then Robin is saying, “Hey, so I’ve been meaning to tell you. I’m, uh, kind of seeing someone?”

She wishes they weren’t on FaceTime, that it was just a phone call, so Nancy could silently scream while speaking calmly, but it’s not. Nancy keeps her face neutral, and, through the lump in her throat, she manages to get out, “Are you asking or telling me?”

“Telling,” Robin says hesitantly. Then she nods. “Yeah. Telling. Is that okay?”

Nancy just shakes her head and doesn’t mention the fact that Robin literally just said that she wasn’t asking. She just says, “It’s not up to me.”

“I know,” Robin says, “but your opinion matters to me.”

There’s a pause. “As long as you’re happy.”

“I am,” Robin says, and Nancy just stares at the ceiling while willing her to stop talking. “Her name is Tammy. She's a musical theater major.”

She wants to say, _Gross_ and _ Did I ask? _ But she just repeats, “As long as you’re happy,” and ends the call before Robin can ask her if she’s sure.

It’s quiet.

“Wow.”

Nancy spins around and finds Eiffel observing from her bed. She bites back a groan and, with a sigh, says, “What do you want?”

“You don’t sound very happy to hear about your friend and her new friend,” Eiffel says.

“I am.”

Eiffel raises an eyebrow. “Okay. If you say so. But, if you ask me--”

“--I’m _not_ asking you--”

“--I’d say you’re jealous.”

Nancy chokes out a laugh. “Jealous? Of what?”

“Of the fact that someone is holding her hand, someone is kissing her goodnight, someone is getting to call her mine, and it isn’t you.” Eiffel has a knowing expression on her face, and Nancy hates it.

“That’s stupid,” Nancy says. _ You’re stupid _ , she thinks. _Tammy_ _ is stupid. _

But the next day, she takes Eiffel up on one of her many offers, and heads out to a party at one of the frat houses. She downs two drinks, finds the first person who looks remotely attractive and doesn’t seem like a creep, and kisses him until the sun comes up.

//

The boy's name is Steve. He has a soft smile, floppy hair, and cares about Nancy in a way that lets her temporarily forget about Robin. Nancy decides to keep kissing him.

//

By mid January, Robin has had three call-ups and five caps with the national team. She tells Nancy that she’ll get her own soon enough, and, like always, she’s right. Nancy’s invited to January camp. She wears a Stanford Soccer sweatshirt into camp and passes the U-20 captain’s armband off to Sofia. She also wears a Julie Johnston jersey. Why? Because it’s laundry day, and Nancy also has a bad habit of not thinking things through.

Halfway through her flight, she realizes in a horrible mini panic attack that she’s about to be in the same room as the _ real _ Julie Johnston, who’s now Ertz, and has a second mini panic attack as she realizes that US Soccer has arranged for her luggage to be brought separately, so she won’t have time to change.

“Fuck me,” she mutters. Nothing worse than looking like a fan, especially when you are one. Still, Nancy’s turned into a California wimp when it comes to the cold, so she vows to leave her sweatshirt on until she’s able to scurry into a bathroom and stuff the godforsaken jersey into the bottom of her suitcase.

Walking into a new camp for the first time has become pretty routine by now. She stumbles nervously into the room looking like she’s got two left feet (but is a right footed footballer), and ambles around aimlessly until she spots Robin, or Robin spots her. This camp, it’s the latter, and she barely forces a scream back down her throat when she realizes who it is, as someone jumps onto her from behind.

“Jesus, Buckley,” she grumbles.

Robin is looking like an absolute ray of sunshine, and just smiles. “I missed you.”

“I missed you, too,” Nancy says, like it’s out of obligation, but when she throws her arms around Robin’s neck and squeezes her like she’s worried she’ll disappear, Nancy knows she understands she means it.

“I’m sitting over there with Alex,” Robin says.

“Naturally,” she nods. She hopes she doesn’t sound as bitter as she feels.

Trying not to feel like a piece of fresh meat about to be thrown to the vultures, she ignores the stares as best she can, and slides in between Christen and Robin gratefully. And then the existentialism hits. “Wow,” she just mutters, with her head in her hands.

“What is it?” Robin asks so concerned that Nancy almost feels bad for being so dramatic.

“Nothing,” she says, letting a little trace of apology seep into her tone. “It’s just, for the first time, I’m not surrounded by random players I don’t know, who are chasing after the same end goal as I am. This _ is _the end goal."

“Is that a bad thing?” Alex asks.

“No, it's good,” Nancy groans. She opens her mouth to say something else, but then her stupid brain reminds her about the jersey she's wearing, and she forgets what she was going to say.

There’s just a half beat of silence until, from across the room, someone says, “Hey, Buckley, is the rookie okay?”

“She’s great!” Robin calls back. “Don’t worry, Becky, I was like this too, you know.”

“That’s why I’m worried,” Becky says, and though Nancy still has her head in her hands, she imagines the veteran is sporting a shit-eating grin.

“Shut up,” Robin says sourly. The attention diverts to Emily, who picks a fight with Becky, and the two of them become the center of attention. Robin turns back to Nancy and whispers, “Are you sure you’re okay?” She takes Nancy’s hand and rubs her thumb across the back. “They’ll understand if you’re nervous, you know. Everybody always is.”

“M’okay,” Nancy says. She tucks herself into Robin’s side and takes a deep breath. “Just overwhelmed. You know.”

“I do,” she agrees. “But you’ll be fine. And even if you end up not being fine, that’s fine too.”

“Okay,” Nancy laughs.

“I mean it!” Robin says into the top of her head. “You could, like, score ten own goals, and I’d still love you.”

“That was actually my biggest fear during my first camp,” Nancy muses.

Robin’s letting her thumb run back and forth over the veins on the back of her hand, and when she laughs, Nancy feels it in her entire body. “Instead, you started the second half and assisted a goal, so let that be a lesson.”

“A lesson of what?”

“You’ll figure it out.”

//

Nancy feels better for about thirty minutes.

//

The welcome meeting has just finished, and the rookies, as always, have to stand up and introduce themselves. It turns out Nancy’s the only one, so right after she tells them the absolute bare minimum information, they begin calling out questions. She decides she would like to be a piece of garbage so that being an inanimate object could be an excuse to stop talking about herself. Finally, Pia thanks her, and she slumps back into her chair. 

She feels like she’s been in a sauna, and peels off her sweatshirt, hoping she doesn’t look too sweaty, and is searching for her name on the screen of room assignments when, from across the room, she hears someone crow, “Rookie is a JJ fan!”

Nancy glances down at her jersey before immediately wishing a quick and sudden death. “Fuck me,” she whispers, staring at Robin with a “help” expression.

And then, out of the crowd, like God or Beyonce, comes Julie Ertz herself. She’s eyeing Nancy up and down and Nancy resists the urge to either run away or lie down and cry.

“Dude,” Julie says, poking at a blue stripe. “This jersey is so old. And the name? Come on. You gotta get an update.”

“Sorry?” she offers.

Julie just laughs and slings an arm over Nancy’s shoulder. “Let’s go, roomie.”

//

Nancy watches the surf of the ocean crawl up the sand before getting swept back out to sea, and times her breathing with the waves, until her heartbeat has slowed.

She’s no stranger to national team camps. She grew up in and out of the various ranks of youth teams, always being the rookie and only ever staying long enough to captain once, so she’s used to wearing the USA crest. This particular set is still recent enough for it to be essentially the same training clothes she was given during her time at the U-20 camp, but for some reason, it feels different this time.

“You okay?”

Looking across the room and seeing Julie Ertz still hasn’t gotten old. Nancy wonders if the racing heartbeat she gets every time will go away. She doesn’t think so, though, because it’s been six years, and she still feels it every time she sees Robin. “Yeah,” she says. Julie doesn’t look convinced. “I’m just nervous, I guess.”

“You’re the only rookie this camp,” Julie agrees. “But you’ll be fine. Nobody expects you to create miracles during your first one. All you need to do, for now, is keep up and help your teammates. If Pia didn’t know for sure you were capable of that, you wouldn’t be here.”

“Thanks,” Nancy says. She takes another deep breath, tears her eyes away from the ocean view and nods almost decisively. “Okay.”

She sits alone on the bus, but she doesn’t mind.

The row across from Robin and Sydney is empty, so she drops into it as the rest of the team fills their unofficially designated seats. Julie had told her it was almost a rite of passage to sit alone for the first bus ride over to practice, and when Robin swings her knees into the aisle to bridge the gap between them, she finds she doesn’t care.

After warming up just enough to not tear anything, Pia instructs them to pair up and begin a passing line. Nancy instinctively looks for Robin, but before she can find her, Tobin Heath holds up her fist and asks, “Partners?”

Nancy tries to mask her surprise, but the amused look on Tobin’s face tells her she didn’t do a very good job of it. Her feet are clumsy, and she feels like all her limbs have been replaced with someone who’s never even seen a soccer ball before. Tobin just looks so cool showing off with little ankle flicks here and there before passing back to her. After sending a horrible ball back, Tobin just retrieves it quickly and juggles with it a little.

“Relax, rookie,” she says. Her tone is reassuring, yet firm, and the two words are such a stark contrast from the mini speech Julie had given her that morning.

Still, it’s enough to remind Nancy of what Julie said; she wouldn’t be here if she couldn’t do it. The ball starts to feel more like home, and every pass gets better and better until she’s starting to put out touches at the level she’s used to providing. A simple “good” from Tobin as they finish their drill is enough to give her a confidence high through the rest of the practice.

The next day, Pia calls for them to find partners again to stretch, and, again, before she can locate Robin through the rest of the team, Emily Sonnett is bouncing up to her and asking if she’ll please be her partner, as if Nancy was doing _ her _ a favor.

She suspects Robin has had something to do with it, because Emily and Tobin both probably have a multitude of friends they’d rather hang out with, but she doesn’t mind enough to ask. It’s nice to know someone cares. The week continues in much the same way. The next day, she’s approached by Crystal Dunn to warm up together, and during their second training session of the day, Emily’s back and offering to be her lifting partner. Andi Sullivan passes with her, and, with a playful shoulder bump, thanks her for saving her from being the newest addition to the team. 

Halfway through the week, Robin and Tobin host a team bonding movie night in their room. Nancy and Robin giggle and push their way in with little backpacks and Nancy shushes everyone until they have the room’s attention, and then they proudly produce bags of chips and candy.

Nancy carefully navigates her way over to Robin, who’s lounging on her bed and watching everyone settle in various spots all over the room. Nancy bribes her way onto the bed with a bag of the watermelon Sourpatch Kids, Robin’s favorite. Cuddling into Robin’s side, she steals a watermelon gummy and says, “I never thanked you.”

“For what?” Robin whispers.

“You know,” Nancy says. “Making everyone be my partner.”

“I didn’t do that,” she says.

“Robin.”

“I’m serious!” Robin pokes another watermelon candy past Nancy’s lips. “They’re just that kind of team. I said you get really nervous for new camps, and they organized that by themselves, I promise.”

Nancy digests this new information, but decides she doesn’t have a reply yet, so she just curls into deeper Robin’s side and presses a soft kiss to her shoulder.

//

“I was surprised I liked you and Robin,” Heather admits.

“Sorry?” Nancy raises an eyebrow and delivers the ball back to her, but Heather is straightening her left shin guard and misses.

“I mean, together,” she clarifies, retrieving the ball. “Usually, I think it’s a bad idea to date teammates, but I see why it works for you two.”

“Oh, uh,” Nancy stammers, “it's not like that.” She knows her face is flushed, and she hopes she can try to blame it on the workout. “We’re both seeing other people, actually.”

“Oh.” Heather looks so genuinely surprised by this information that she holds the ball under her right foot for at least five seconds before passing back what’s supposed to be a one touch passing drill. “Sorry. I mean, I just assumed, given the way she talks about you, the way you were sitting during the welcome meeting and the movie night.”

“The way she talks about me?” Nancy knows she’s wading in uncharted waters, but curiosity really did kill the cat, she supposes, and if that’s how she’s gonna go out, so be it.

“Yeah, like, telling us to go easy on you,” Heather says. “Not in practice or anything, but at meals and stuff. Don’t tease you too much, let you warm up before we let loose all our rookie pranks, all that jazz. And then there were the nerves from her when she found out you were going to get called up in the first place. Texted in the group chat paragraphs and paragraphs demanding we be on our best behavior and gushing about how proud of you she was.”

“_ She _ was proud of _ me _?” Nancy almost laughs. Heather just flicks the ball up into her hands with an arched eyebrow to begin the heading drill, and, with a frown replacing the half-hearted chuckle, Nancy tries to answer the question Heather didn’t ask. “It’s just, I’ve always been the one who looking up and cheering her on. But she’s proud of me, too, I guess.” It’s like she’s talking to her thirteen year old self, so desperate for approval. “She’s proud of me?” she says again, but it comes out more like a question.

Heather just nods, and there’s a soft smile that dances across her lips, like she knows something Nancy doesn’t. “Yeah. She’s proud of you.”

//

She should know better, but, that night, Nancy breaks up with Steve. Like a douchebag, she does it over text, and spent two hours typing out paragraphs and paragraphs, only to send a couple sentences. It's two in the morning, and Steve is absolutely asleep. She presses send, and feels horrible when she thinks about him waking up to _that_ text. She tries to justify not using the maturity she's always taken pride in, but when she wakes up to his reply, which says, _I understand._, she just feels like more of an asshole.

For some reason, knowing that Robin is in a happy relationship, she just can't bring herself to tell her. Robin knocks on her door with a smile, and, when she doesn't even ask if anything is wrong, Nancy wonders why she isn't more upset about dumping Steve, and wishes she was.

Guilt settles in her stomach as they prepare to enjoy a beach day, but, it forgetfulness washes it away. The sun is shining, the water is cold, the sand is warm, and Robin is Robin. Nancy lounges on her towel with the sun beating down on her and watches Robin wade into the water. It’s like a movie, like the part of the story where everything is perfect, and you hope it stays that way, but it never does.

They’d opted out of the team activity, and, on a whim, googled the nearest beach to spend the day at. They’d began with one of the most picturesque meals Nancy ever had in her entire life, so perfect it felt like there was no way it could have been real. They’d run to the nearest Safeway to pick up the kind of picnic she thought only happened in remote island getaways that cost five million dollars; sourdough baguette with goat cheese and olives, pasta salad and dry salami, and a bottle of red wine Robin had bullied Kelley into buying for them.

It had been perfect. It had been beautiful. It was the kind of day that made Nancy feel the way she feels whenever she looks at Robin.

She sits, munching on the end of the salami, and watching Robin swim laps back and forth in the ocean. Nancy tries not to let her heart rate go up when a Robin dips behind a wave or gets tugged a little by the undertow, and when Robin splashes out of the water, Nancy’s waiting with a towel. She hugs it around her and rubs her arms up and down as the older girl shivers. “Jesus,” Nancy mutters, “I don’t know how you can stand to swim in that cold.”

“Think of it as a recovery session,” Robin says through chattering teeth.

“Dawn will be so proud,” Nancy says. She rolls her eyes as Robin shivers again. “Especially when you catch pneumonia and die.”

“Don’t be dramatic,” Robin says.

They lie on the towels that may or may not have come from the hotel, and Nancy feels like the moment will be ruined if she so much as breathes too loudly. Still, she can’t stand the silence, and after taking a sip of wine, she says, “So, you’re almost done with college.”

“I know,” Robin sighs. “I can’t believe it.”

“You’ve decided on the NWSL, right?” Nancy asks.

“I kind of want to go to PSG,” she admits, and Nancy feels like her heart is going to stop.

“France,” she says.

“I’ve always wanted an authentic croissant,” she says thoughtfully.

“I would have thought you’d be hoping for LA,” Nancy admits. She doesn’t say that the thought of Robin in France for at least a six month contract feels like a disaster.

“I don’t know,” Robin says. She exhales loudly and shrugs. “Quinn from Duke is graduating this year, so is Fleming from UCLA. Both national team players for Canada, both registering for the draft. I’m not so sure I’ll be top pick.”

“But you _ will _ be picked,” Nancy points out.

Robin shrugs. “I hope so.” There’s a brief silence, and Nancy wonders how everybody can see how perfect Robin is, except her. Then, “What about you?”

“Portland,” Nancy says confidently.

“Oh yeah?” Robin laughs. She sits up, out of the slight slump she’d been falling into, and when she turns to look at Nancy with a smile, the air feels lighter already. “You’ve been talking to Tobin too much.”

“What can I say?” Nancy says with a shrug. “Rose City seems like the place for me.”

“It really does,” Robin admits. She hesitates, but then says, “I wish I knew where I belonged.”

Nancy swallows thickly, but there’s still a lump in her throat and a rising pound of her heartbeat when she says, “Don’t worry about things that aren’t happening yet. You’ll have enough time for that. Just be here with me.”

There’s nothing but silence coming from the older girl, and Nancy’s feeling glad and relieved that she said it while simultaneously wishing she could melt into the ocean and get swept out with the tide. It’s silent, too silent, but she knows if she says something else it’ll just make her look stupid. Her palms are sweating, her tongue feels heavy in her mouth, and she’s wishing she could take it all back or laugh it away like some kind of inside joke they were both in on, but before she can decide what to do, Robin’s lips are on hers.

She hadn’t ever really imagined it.

And by _ it _, she means kissing Robin.

The Californian’s lips are chapped from the wind, and she tastes like sea salt and red wine. Nancy just barely starts to say, "Tammy?" when Robin just breathes, "It's done," as if giving her permission for her to sink to her arms. She smells the ocean and feels a slight tug in her hair as Robin’s hand traces up and down her jawline. Hesitantly, she laces the hand not holding herself up with Robin’s, and squeezes slightly when Robin nips at her bottom lip slightly in response.

Nancy never knew kissing someone could feel like this. She always thought it was something you did to display affection or to pass the time or just have a little fun. hSe’d done her fair share of it, from middle school spin the bottle games to making out with strangers at a party just because she could, but Nancy never knew it could be such an unadulterated feeling of warmth.

She never knew it could feel like home.

//

For the next few camps, like clockwork, they come in, pretend like absolutely nothing so going on, and then inevitably start kissing again. They’re quick kisses, so quick that Nancy almost misses them, and so hurried that Robin sometimes lands them on the corner of her mouth instead of her lips, but they happen. They’re paired with a “good morning” when Robin stops by Nancy’s room to walk down to breakfast together, or a “great job today” when they’re tucked away from the clamor and ruckus of their team on bus rides back from practices. Sometimes they find the top of Nancy’s hair instead, and sometimes her forehead.

Still, no matter the circumstance, they make Nancy feel so full and content that she wonders how she ever lived without them.

But the quick pecks turn to slow kisses and then suddenly they’re having half hour make-out sessions while the rest of the team is doing recovery or playing Monopoly or poring over those stupid crossword puzzles Alyssa got everyone addicted to.

The slow, purposeful kisses have become hurried and heavy and make Nancy realize that this is what people mean when they describe fireworks and bells and whistles. She realizes this is what it means to be in love. So when Robin tugs at her shirt and breathes “off” into the curve of her jaw, she doesn’t hesitate. When Nancy starts to pause and overthink, she just puts herself on autopilot and unbuckles Robin’s belt as nimbly as she can. When it’s pretty clear this has become more than a makeout session, she just lets herself get carried away in kisses and touches and moments that slow just enough for her to catch her breath.

//

And then they’re just lying there. Nancy's head is tucked into the crook of Robin's neck, and Nancy’s just hoping that Tobin isn’t coming back anytime soon. “I don’t want to, like, ruin the moment,” she says, trying to hide how nervous she is.

Clearly, she hadn’t thought that part through, though, because Robin’s arm is all but pressed to her heartbeat, and she shifts, trying to make eye contact. “Everything okay?

“Yeah. Yeah, of course,” Nancy says quickly. “It’s just...” after a moment’s deliberation, she sighs and says, “What are we doing?”

Robin pauses, and then drops her head back onto the pillow. Nancy’s wondering if she should say something else, because it doesn’t look like Robin’s going to, but right before she can choose one of the many phrases she has tucked away in her head, Robin sighs and then says, “I don’t know.”

“Okay.”

“I mean, I don’t know what we’re _doing_,” Robin clarifies, “but I know what I want.”

“Yeah?”

She exhales quietly, and then shifts again, holding Nancy’s gaze. “I want you.”

“Okay,” Nancy breathes. She nods. “Good. That’s good.”

“This is the part where you say you want me, too,” Robin says with a wink. But the knowing look she always has hidden in the corner of her eye fades slightly, and when she chews on her bottom lip for a moment, Nancy realizes it’s one of the only times she’s ever seen her look so vulnerable. “I mean, you do, right?”

“I do.”

//

A couple days before Feburary camp, room assignments are emailed, and Nancy doesn’t understand why she’s not overjoyed to be roomed with Robin. She realizes that she’s nervous. It’s a new feeling. She’s always been insecure with Robin when it came to _other_ people, but never when they’re alone. Of course, she doesn’t get the chance to stew for long, because Robin tackles her onto the bed with a hug, like usual, and the second their lips meet, Nancy forgets any worry she ever had. They spend a good fifteen minutes cuddling and kissing and just enjoying being together. Robin mumbles something about, “This might be our last time being roomed with each other” and Nancy doesn’t know what to make of that until she realizes they never let couples be roommates.

She smiles.

That evening, the team gathers in Becky and Alyssa’s room.

“I know I gave a speech in our welcome meeting,” Becky announces, “but I wanted to give another, unofficial speech to you guys again. First, I’d like to welcome everyone who’s played with us before back to camp, and to introduce you guys in a more low stress setting to the newest rookie, Tierna Davidson.”

Tierna stands up and while she looks nervous, she looks a hell of a lot more put together than Nancy knows she looked at her first camp. “Hi, I’m Tierna. I’m 17. I’m from Menlo Park, California, and I’m going to Stanford next year.”

Nancy claps a little louder than the others, while Robin mimes booing. Becky tosses Tierna a thumbs up and stands up again. “Great. Awesome. I love rookies. Anyway, I know last camp we had a great game against Romania, and I’m hoping we can pull it together again for Australia. The Aussies are good friends with a lot of us because most play in the US, and they are considerably more organized as a team than Romania, and it will not be easy.” 

She pauses. Her eyes are stern and her posture is perfectly upright and Nancy feels like they’ve already lost. 

“Jeez, lighten up!” Alyssa calls. She sticks her tongue out and rolls her eyes, and Nancy breathes a slight sigh of relief as everyone else allows themselves to laugh a little.

Becky rolls her eyes and says, “Fine, fine. We’re gonna do great. Enjoy the chips, because that’s the last of it for the rest of the camp.”

A chorus of boos and cheers float up from the rest of the team, and Nancy leans back into Robin. She manages to relax for approximately half a second before Heather calls out, “Hey! Buckley! How’s it going with Tammy?”

Nancy stiffens.

She feels Robin stiffen.

She tries to put on a nonchalant attitude, but she knows it’s probably not working, so she busies herself with her phone, and hopes nobody notices she’s just opening and closing the Facebook app over and over again.

“Oh,” Robin says. “We, uh, we actually broke up.”

“Why?” Heather says. Her lips have turned down into an exaggerated frown, but it’s not comical. Everyone else has quieted a little, and Nancy wishes that they weren’t the kind of team that, like, cares about the other people in it.

“Oh, you know,” Robin shrugs. “It just wasn’t working out.”

She’s not sure how to feel about Robin’s reasoning because, while she’s upset that Robin doesn’t seem to want to tell people about them, she also realizes that _she_ doesn’t want them to know. Not yet. It’s one of the only secrets that she has just with Robin. Or so she thought.

When Alex gives her a sympathetic smile as Robin continues talking about how she’s sad about the breakup, Nancy realizes that of course Robin would tell her best friend. She figures this means Kristie probably knows, which means Kristie’s sister Sam probably knows, which means everybody probably knows. She figures she’s exaggerating; the trail of secret spilling probably ended at Kristie, but she still can’t help the mixture of annoyance, frustration, and anger that’s building up in her chest and doesn’t seem like it’ll be able to stop itself. So she mumbles something about going to the bathroom and leaves the room.

It takes Robin approximately five minutes to come after her (Nancy counted), and by then, she’s lying under her covers with the light off and is trying to do those dumb breathing exercises her mom keeps emailing her about. She hears the lock click and the door open just slightly, and a familiar rasp calls out, “Nancy?”

She doesn’t say anything.The door starts to close. “Wait.”

She hears the door stop moving, and then the beam of light from the hallway widens and Robin steps inside. Nancy hears her softly close the door, kicks off her shoes, and slides under the covers with her. It’s just like Nancy always pictured falling asleep with Robin, only this time she feels like crying, and she can tell that they’re about to have one of those dreaded heart to heart talks.

“What’s up?” Robin whispers. Nancy just stares at her and Robin sighs.

“Who knows the real reason you and Tammy broke up?” Nancy demands.

“Just Alex,” Robin promises. Nancy raises one eyebrow. “I’m serious. Look, do you want me to tell the team? Because I will.”

“I know,” Nancy whines, “I don’t want that either. I just...”

“I know,” Robin whispers. “You think I loved seeing you and Steve together?

To be perfectly honest, Nancy never thought about that. From her perspective, she and Steve were never a threat. Robin was always the one on her mind, always the one she stayed up to talk to even when she was tired; Steve wasn’t even close to competing. She doesn’t want to say that, though, so she just shrugs and lets Robin stroke her hair as they fall asleep.

The next day they jump right back into training, and Nancy remembers why she’s even here in the first place; soccer. Performing well at these camps and securing a place in the next one is what will either make or break her career. The lock of blue pre-wrap tied around her wrist is as calming as always as they set up in 6v6 scrimmages. She doesn’t think it’ll ever get old looking ahead of her and seeing the likes of Abby Wambach or turning around and high-fiving Becky Sauerbrunn. Her passes are connecting, she feels light on her feet, she keeps up with the pace of everyone else, and provides two assists to Christen up top on her side.

Everything is going great, untilit isn't.

She doesn’t see a single minute on the field against Australia, just like the last game against Romania. Even when they’re up ahead by 3 in the last 20 minutes of the game, Nancy stays on the bench as Robin runs up and down the field scoring goal after goal with Julie. She tries not to feel bitter on the plane ride back to Stanford.

It doesn’t work.

//

It’s March, and the weather is annoyingly inconsistent. Nancy does not enjoy it being foggy and below 50 degrees in the morning, but sunny and over 80 in the afternoons. She tells Robin this, who just laughs and says, “Get used to it. You’re there for the next three years.”

“What about you?” Nancy asks. “You hoping to stay in California?”

“Actually,” Robin starts. She pauses, and Nancy knows that she’s biting her bottom lip and tapping her fingers. “Well, I was kind of thinking of going to play overseas.”

“Oh, right," Nancy remembers, ignoring the fact that she'd been hoping Robin had forgotten. "Instead of the NWSL?”

“Instead of college.”

Nancy stews with this new information for a solid thirty seconds. “You’re months away from graduating.”

“I know.”

“Like, just wait a few months and you’ll be a college graduate. You’ll be able to go to Europe all the same, but you’ll have a diploma.”

“I know.”

“If you go now, you’ll be playing the exact same game, just without finishing literally three months of college.”

“I _know_.” Robin sounds upset, and Nancy holds her tongue. “I know it’s crazy. I probably won’t even end up going to Europe anyway.”

“That’s not what I meant--,” Nancy starts, but Robin cuts her off with one last, “I know.”

//

The next camp is the first where the Olympics begins to really be on everyone’s radar. Obviously, it’s been a long time coming, but it’s almost electric to have a real goal for the senior team members. It’s a reminder not to get stagnant. It’s a reminder that the senior team in itself is not the biggest accomplishment possible.

Nancy tries to imagine standing on the podium with a gold medal around her neck. She imagines Robin next to her, fingers laced tightly. And she holds onto it.

//

Nancy drives up to Berkeley on June 15th and watches Robin cross the stage in a bright blue gown the same day. She’s proud, she really is, but a weight settles in the bottom of her stomach when Robin turns her head just ever so slightly as Nancy leans in for a kiss. Her lips land on Robin’s cheek instead.

It’s hard to dwell on it when Robin is wearing a smile that puts the California sun to shame and is looking... well, like _ that _, in her bright blue grad cap. It’s hard to find a reason to think that it means anything when Robin is grabbing her hand and pulling her away to introduce her to all of her teammates. It’s hard to create an opportunity to bring it up when Robin is cuddled into her side in her hotel room, and as she falls asleep, it’s not hard to forget about it altogether.

The little, tiny, almost unnoticeable pit in her stomach is still present when she wakes up, and it only grows when she remembers that Robin signed with Sky Blue FC in New Jersey. It’s a reminder that Robin is going to be starting a major new life chapter, and Nancy won’t get to be a part of it. Alex will. Alex signs with Orlando, and Nancy goes back to Stanford.

She’s in an Uber back to campus when the accident happens.

She’s told after that a truck driver ran a red light and t-boned them. She’s told that her driver had taken his eyes off the road for just a second, but, even if he hadn’t, they probably wouldn't have had time to stop. She’s told the car was totaled and that it spun into the next lanes of traffic. She's told her side was hit three times by three different cars. She’s told two people died on the scene.

She tries to act relieved when they tell her that it’s pretty obvious who was at fault, and that all the legal stuff is out of the way, and her medical expenses are pretty much fully covered. She tries not to wince while they tell her everything that’s wrong with her. And she tries not to be disappointed when they say, “Let’s take it one day at a time. You’re lucky to be alive” after she asks when she can get back on the pitch.

//

From the beginning, Nancy had always been a participant in some kind of activity, whether it was racing Mike to the house when they came home from school, or helping her team to place first in all her youth league soccer games. The second she had been born, her parents had compiled a thorough list of virtually every sport under the sun, and the second she could walk, they found a way for her to try each and every last one. While she excelled in them all, she was bored.

Volleyball relied too much on teammates, she could only put up with so much sand from long jump, ballet required more equipment than she could keep track of, and swimming? Swimming was just too wet. Summer camp ruled out basketball, one session with her dad instilled a hatred of tennis she knew would never go away, hockey was too cold, and golf wasn’t even a sport. Golf was what people did at the country club with other rich people while they talked about being rich.

Finally, after one too many things broken due to rogue kicks to an old soccer ball she’d found in the garage, her dad demanded Nancy join a league so she could learn to control the ball properly. She loved it. On the drive home from her first game, her mom said, “We found it, huh?”

Nancy just nodded. He smiled to himself, but her dad wasn’t as impressed. “You want to be a professional... soccer player? A _ women’s _ soccer player?”

She swiped a finger full of the brownie batter her mom was stirring and rolled her eyes. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

“Don’t you want to do something with a little bit more of a professional future?” he suggested. “I was just saying to Helen the other day--”

“Dad,” Nancy said gently, “I just want to play.”

So she did.

Her parents gave up on their dream of having All-American Nancy becoming a cheerleader or gymnast or ballet dancer, or even a softball player, though her dad did always ask if it had to be so dirty when girls were on the pitch. Nancy made them donate all her unused gear from the various sports she was determined to cut out of her life, and her closet began to be filled with soccer gear.

As it turned out, there was a lot of it. She collected pre-wrap proudly and played with heart. From day one, she’d known it was going to be her sport, and she knew it always would be. So when she wakes up in the hospital after the crash, her first thought is, _ if not this Olymics, then the next one _. She’s not even nineteen. She knows she has the mental drive and physical capabilities to recover and push through, and she knows, even in the athletic world, she’s still so young. Her body is so young.

Her next thought is, _ Shit. My leg hurts. _

Her doctor says he’s not surprised it hurts because she broke it in four different places and shattered part of her knee cap.

Robin asks, once, for Nancy to remember that the doctors had specifically made her zero promises about her athletic future. Nancy feels the familiar burning in her chest that she knows will make her say something stupid and mean out of frustration and fear, so she changes the subject. The notion is dismissed as easily as she dismissed all those sports she’d tried and discarded. Athletes come back all the time from torn ACL’s, pulled muscles, even pregnancy. Why couldn’t she?

Well, as it turned out, her knee, mostly. Her leg, too. And her foot. A couple ribs. The concussion proved to be a stubborn roadblock too. Really, it’s more like what _ doesn't _ hurt?

When the headaches subside and Nancy stops feeling her brain hurt every time she has to answer a question more difficult than what her name is, she figures she can start training again. Lightly, of course. Under supervision, of course. But she’s been doing physical therapy directed by U.S. Soccer, she’s out of her casts, and she feels great, if you take the bottom half of her body out of the equation. After a “recovery” workout on her own time that Nancy pushes a little too hard and puts her back in a boot, her teammates barely even lets her walk around the grocery store with them. Nancy dutifully puts her cleats back in her closet, stops making training playlists, and starts to rest the way she has been told to all along.

She and a loop of pink pre-wrap around her wrist go through the assigned physical therapy, nothing more and nothing less. She stretches twice a day. She does light weight training and calisthenics. She does cardio via approved methods. She follows all her instructions perfectly. 

Weeks turned to months, and eventually, she’s completely cleared. While she’s always going to be a concussion risk (what soccer player isn’t?), the headaches have subsided, and she can read without feeling like her head is being clamped together. Her leg muscles have slowly developed back after all but vanishing due to her time in the cast, and, according to her doctors, there is no evidence of any broken bones, torn ligaments, sprains, muscle tears, or injury of any kind.

And yet, the pain persists.

No matter how much icing and physical therapy and ibuprofen she takes, the recovery of a workout takes much longer in her right leg than it does any other part of her body, even though her body is one that has grown to embrace pain, to love it. Her muscles feel like they’re splitting? She sprints faster. Her side has a stitch? She kicks harder. Her lungs burn? She runs extra. Sore legs feel like victory, feel like progress.

She knows this is different.

Some days she’s able to get through everything with just a nagging sensation of discomfort at the back of her mind. Some nights she can’t sleep because no position can ease what feels like hot coals under her kneecap. Sometimes she’s able to go to parties with her friends and dance for hours. Some days she can’t even put weight on her foot without tears coming to her eyes.

So she goes back to the doctor. They run tests, take scans of every part of her lower body, do physical examinations. And they have a smile on their face when they say she’s fine. They say everything is fine.

But Nancy’s in so much pain.

A little over a year after the accident, she officially retires from competitive soccer.

Nancy brings back the daydream of standing on the podium with a gold medal around her neck. She closes her eyes, breathes in deep, and imagines Robin next to her. The heavy weight around her neck, the softness of Robin’s hand in hers, the roar of the crowd. She allows herself one last moment of imagination, and then she lets it go.

//

Robin stops by on her way to her flight out to the Olympics (Nancy plans to stuff her face full of junk food and throw herself a pity party while watching the games at home), and it’s really just the cherry on top of a truly spectacular year when she says, “Nancy, I’ve been thinking. About us.”

She’d known this talk was coming, probably due to her shutting everyone out after the injury.

“Now that you're officially retired from soccer, that's going to be a big change," Robin says earnestly. "At least, I know it would be for me, and you're just as dedicated, if not more. I want you to be able to find yourself and your passions without soccer and without me. I want you to be able to find stuff for _yourself_. Isn't that what you've always been wanting?"

She doesn't even acknowledge the question, and just says, “Are you breaking up with me?” It comes out as more of a statement, and she bites her lower lip to stop it from quivering. 

“Nance...” Robin says softly. She laces their fingers together. “Were we even together?” _ Ouch _. She reads Nancy’s expression and quick backtracks. “I didn’t mean it like that. I just meant we never really told people, we never really made it official. And maybe that was a good thing, you know?”

“Yeah, maybe.”

“I’m not saying never. I love you like I've never loved anyone, and that's why I think this is a good idea.” Robin chews her bottom lip. “I think you need some time.”

“Okay.” Nancy’s voice is bitter and her vision is blurry as she stares at the ceiling. She waits for Robin to leave, and then she cries.

//

It turns out Robin was right. She usually is. Nancy admits this in a text a week later that she ends with,_ Do your thing. I love you always. _

While the U.S. is busy winning gold in China, Nancy begins classes at UCLA. Journalism. Traveling the world during her time with all the national teams showed her just how much beauty and wonder there is in the world. Whether it's the forests of Switzerland or the cobbled streets of England or the hustle and bustle of Japan, there is so much to see beyond Indiana and beyond the US. She wants to see it all, and then she wants to share her travels with those who can't go themselves.

Upon Robin’s return, she’s traded to LA. Robin swears she had nothing to do with it, but Nancy isn’t convinced, considering how quickly Robin suggests they move into an apartment together. Robin’s gold medal hangs on a hook in her room with an autographed picture of the whole Olympic roster. Nancy hangs up her hospital discharge papers.

Everything feels comfortably domestic. They’re each careful not to let anything stray past friendship level affection, but Robin still hugs Nancy with everything she has, and Nancy still allows Robin to sink into her arms while they watch Netflix together. It’s nice. It’s almost like Nancy can pretend she’s not in love with her. She convinces herself that it’s fine; after all, she has her own life now. A new passion, new school, new friends, new goals. So what if her heart still skips a beat when Robin says her name? She’s supposed to be happy, and if buying Robin’s favorite chocolates on her way home from class just because she wants to see Robin smile makes her happy, she refuses to second guess herself.

Her knee still hurts. In a way, she’s almost glad the pain hasn’t gone away. It’s like a confirmation that retiring from soccer was the right choice. If she felt fully healed, she knows she would have spent the rest of her life always wondering if she could have been _that_ comeback player, and if she gave up on a dream too early.

Their routine falls into place almost too easily. Nancy is the cook of the household, which leaves Robin to do the shopping and the dishes. Robin hates doing laundry, so Nancy volunteers, on the condition that Robin takes out the trash. Nancy would be lying if she said that she doesn’t encourage Robin to watch another episode with her at night because she knows they’ll get tired and fall asleep on the couch together. She’d be lying if she said that she didn’t choose to take an online class instead of a lecture because the lecture would have met on Robin’s day off. She’d be lying if she said she wasn’t waiting for the “maybe someday” to come.

She’s almost satisfied with pick up soccer games in the park, but it’s still frustrating to go from one of the fittest players on every team to almost falling behind Robin’s pace when they go on runs together. Nancy tells her not to slow down for her, but she knows Robin checks her stride every few minutes to gauge how her leg is doing. Well, that’s what Nancy assumes. The alternative is that Robin is psychic and somehow knows exactly when to push to sprint home, and when to suggest that they walk and take their time.

Nancy flops onto the couch after a particularly difficult run and flicks on Hulu. The most recent episode of Brooklyn Nine Nine begins playing as Robin slides onto the spot next to her and passes the bag of popcorn to Nancy. It’s almost uncomfortably natural how easily Nancy’s legs find Robin’s lap and how automatically Robin begins massaging Nancy’s leg.

“Can you believe we’ve been living together for three months?” Nancy asks.

“Best three months of my life,” Robin says with a smile.

“Best three months of _ my _ life,” Nancy agrees. “It just... it feels so natural, ya know?”

“I know.”

It’s good. It’s _ too _ good. Every time it’s this good, God or the universe or plain coincidence manages to ruin it. She figures if she’s survived a literal near death experience, she can survive anything. So she loves Robin unadulteratedly, and waits for the universe to fuck her over again. She’s not even surprised when Robin tells her she’s going to play soccer in France.

//

The ride to the airport is quiet.

Neither of them have a car, so they take an Uber. It feels like there's so much to say, but the driver eyes Robin in the backseat, making them too uncomfortable to even begin having a conversation. The one thing she’d been glad about when she retired from soccer was the end to all the press. She really hadn’t made it yet; it would have been winning gold at the Olympics that would put Nancy on the media map, so her accident was a big deal for about a week, and then everyone forgot about her because she let them. She hates that kind of attention, so when the driver is obviously eavesdropping as much as he can, her jaw tightens. Robin notices, of course. She brushes her pinky finger along Nancy’s, and Nancy manages to refrain from telling him to piss off.

The driver seems disappointed when they arrive at the airport with no juicy gossip. Nancy almost laughs when she thinks about if they’d just gone over their entire friendship’s history in front of him, making out and all. Who would believe him, anyway?

Robin had sent most of her stuff to her place in France, so all she has is a backpack with carry on essentials and a couple days of clothes, just in case. They sit, hand in hand, waiting for boarding to open up.

“Do you ever wonder what would have happened if I hadn’t gotten in the accident?” Nancy asks.

Robin lifts one eyebrow. “What do you mean? Career wise?”

Nancy chews at her bottom lip. “No. I mean ‘us’ wise. The only reason we cut it off was because of the injury when you wanted me to, like, grow as a person and whatever.” Robin looks slightly offended, and Nancy quickly says, “I still think it was a good idea. But...”

Robin doesn’t say anything. Then, she presses a soft kiss to Nancy’s hand and whispers, “I wish we had met in a different world. You as a hot journalism student at Stanford, me as an up and coming art major at Cal..”

Nancy doesn’t say anything.

“Hey, it’s not forever.” Robin bumps her shoulder playfully, but her voice is hoarser than usual when she says, “Nancy, I love you. You know that. In every meaning of the phrase. Maybe one day -- no, I _ promise _ one day everything will settle down, and we can figure out exactly what we want from this.”

Nancy doesn’t say that she already knows what she wants. She just gestures to the gate entrance. “You can board now. Get in early, get comfortable.”

They stand, but neither takes a step towards the employee scanning tickets. This is the part where Nancy is supposed to say goodbye and confess her love and beg Robin to stay. Instead, without thinking, she says, “Thank you.”

Robin lets out a watery chuckle. “What for?” she asks.

What is it for?

Is it for being her friend?

Or is it being for so much more?

Is it for being the kind of person Nancy knows she can call at any time and have her undivided attention? Is it for slowly chipping away at all of Nancy’s heavily constructed walls until nothing was left but her? Is it for, once those walls were broken down, loving everything that was behind them unconditionally, and, in return, allowing Nancy to love her?

Is it for the late nights and the early mornings? The little smiles and high fives in the middle of training sessions with the team? Or the laughter and fun in the practices they have with nobody else but each other? The pre-wrap Nancy has been tying around her wrist for years that gives her that little bit of extra confidence every time she looks down at it, because it means someone believes in her? Or the hug Robin would seek out in the locker room that eventually turned into soft kisses and moments when they could just breathe?

Or, is it just a thank you to Robin for simply being Robin? For being the most important person in Nancy’s life long before either of them even knew it? For giving her the confidence to be herself by leading the way? Or for giving her the confidence to not be confident, and teaching her to show the world all of her inhibitions, shamelessly?

For being the best teammate, friend, and, somehow, both a girlfriend and girlfriend that never was at the same time?

Or is it for, all those years ago, being the first person to believe in her? For taking little thirteen year old Nancy under her wing and letting her tag along with all her cool high school age friends? For being there for her first goal, first assist, and first cap? First everything, really.

In the end, Nancy knows it’s all of those things and more. She wants to tell her, she wants to yell it out to the world. She wants everyone to know the miracle that is Robin Buckley way beyond all the soccer stardom and flashy goals.

But their lives are waiting, the plane is waiting, and the flight will leave whether Robin is there or not. Nancy is glad there are no cameras in sight. This moment isn’t for the world.

_ Thank you. _

What for? Nancy doesn’t think she can fit everything she wants to say into the few seconds she has left, so she just presses a soft kiss to Robin’s lips. They’re as warm and inviting as the first kiss they ever shared, a hurried moment filled with sand and salt. She places one last kiss into the corner of Robin’s mouth, licks away the wet from the tears on her lips, and whispers, “Everything.”

//

Nancy pulls her phone out to catch a Lyft, but the sun is shining and her feet want to move, so she walks.

//

She’s greeted by an empty apartment and a roll of blue pre-wrap placed carefully on their kitchen table at Nancy’s spot. There’s a little message tucked inside scribbled on a sticky note. _ I’ll be back. I promise. I love you. -- RB _

There’s the chairs they couldn’t agree on, so don’t match, but are now Nancy’s favorite part of the apartment. There’s the couch where they shared so many lazy days of long cuddles and quick kisses. There’s the closet that’s way too empty than it should be, and there’s the bed that has long since gone cold, but still smells like Robin, so she curls up into it and cries.

She knows this isn’t forever. After all, Robin promised she’d be back soon, and the contract is only for three months.

But three months turn into six. Six turns into nine. Robin stays a year and leads Lyon to win after win. It starts to feel like she’s moved there permanently.

People stop asking Nancy when Robin’s coming back, and the questions veer more towards if she misses her. She does, of course, but she puts on a diplomatic smile and spits out the over rehearsed lines about being happy for Robin’s accomplishments and development as a person and a player. It’s not totally untrue. That’s what makes it bearable to say.

There are the videos of Robin speaking almost perfect French to little boys and girls in the stands. The photos of Parisian food and elegant streets and a sun kissed Robin with a smile so wide it’s like she’s there with her. And it’s the other things, the unplanned things. The moments of unadulterated happiness clear as day on Robin’s face when she scores a goal. The way she talks about how soccer has become something she loves again. The moments that remind Nancy why Robin even left in the first place.

The less they talk, the less Nancy hurts, and eventually, she cuts her off completely. Letters pile up in a collection under her bed, and phone calls and text messages go unanswered until they slow to a complete stop.

She focuses back on her own life. She gets a dog. Finch becomes her new training buddy, and allows her to rediscover why she even started running and playing sports in the first place; not for medals, not for recognition or awards or money, but for fun.

She learns to wake up alone and enjoy the quiet mornings before she begins the hectic life she’s grown to love. She learns to let her clothes breathe and spread out without all the clothes from Robin she’d “borrowed.” She learns to fall asleep by herself and rise by herself. To cook for herself. To smile for herself. To live with herself. She re-learns how to love soccer, how to love her friends. She learns how to devote every part of her to the academic side of school. She learns to prioritize, to spend some time just enjoying the moment. She thinks about the parts of her that are only really there because of Robin, and learns to love them for what they aren’t.

She learns to breathe on her own. She learns to feel confident without a soft ring of blue on her wrist. She learns to let her feet run and mind race. To let her eyes wander without searching for approval. She learns to do things and see things she can keep for just her because, for once, _ she _ is the most important thing in her life.

She learns to live without.

And yet, after all of it, she still thinks about the promise Robin made to her two years ago with a roll of pre-wrap and a little message on a sticky note. She thinks about how naive she was to believe it was a promise Robin was capable of keeping. After spending her whole life chasing after her and never really being able to catch up, always being just one big step behind, she should have known.

At first it was simply that Nancy was thirteen and Robin was in high school. Then it was different national teams. Then it was college. Then it was the professional leagues. Then it was the accident. Then it was France. And now? Robin had said she wishes they’d met in another life, but they’re in this one, and now it just seems like maybe it’s been the fact that Nancy is Nancy and Robin is Robin. Maybe it’s been that all along, and maybe everything else was just an excuse. 

It’s understandable.

She understands.

She just wishes Robin hadn’t promised.

**Author's Note:**

> pls leave me a comment cuz im needy
> 
> as always, hope you enjoyed! and dont feel too sad bc i have fluff coming next lol
> 
> \-- emily / kaitlyndevr on tumblr
> 
> ps as a stanford student, if u go to cal ur banned from reading my fics (jkjk)


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